theres a dangerous time of night
when productivity is essential
but the clock at the corner of my computer screen stops
meaning anything
the numbers are fascinating as they float by changing
almost beautiful
the tyme what is tyme
is it time or tyme what makes it mean anything
and so existential crisis's happen at 11:46 and then again at 2:53  
those numbers are beautiful in a cruel sort of way
they creep up on you and lie, saying
everything is fine as they slip through your still fingertips
hovering over the keyboard for so long now empty
digital pages taunt fingertips
but the numbers are pretty again
3:01
****

i fall in love with people all the time
a laugh here
a pleasant face there
the innocence of a moment caught in a glance
a moment and a half of eye contact and i fall in love with people
all the time
i see their curiosity as they wonder
why i see them
why i take the time to see them
the energy
and its because loving is my lifeblood
and it pulses within me
its the loving that sustains me
that wakes me up and gives me restful sleep
that moves my bare feet across the earth and
runs my eyes deep into the forests we wander together
because it's the loving that constitutes my bones
that holds me up that gives me form
its the loving that moves the muscles that tug upward at the corners of my mouth
its the loving that blows bubbles in my lungs that escape as laughter
its the loving that brings tears when they are raw and needed too

i fall in love with people all the time

she told me to get weirder<
! don,t know
how to
weird
weirdin abstractin
! don,t know how to weird
how do ! take a good decision and
flip it--pilf ti
how can ! make something weird and still
important
am ! important
is meye decision im port ant
or
is it all just meaning
less

2007 misty grey prius
roommate in the front
new friend in the back
soft and kind music fills the spaces
between our skin
my right hand on the wheel
my left out the window
feeling the wind
that weaves
running through us
and binding us together
his face lit by street lights soft
his chin on the window sill
watching the town drift by
her eyes closed gentle smile
plays on her lips
as she soaks in the moon's rays
the laughter of the day still echoing
in our minds as we drive
home

the sirens sound angrier here
they lash him from sleep with abrupt interruption
the blinds are broken and
stories spilled out like leaking light long ago
and now the blue lights flood in violent disparate array
fragmented through broken blinds
or maybe its just paranoia
but the sirens sound angrier here.

"missing" hangs
              like lose fabric
                        on my skin
that I feel hollow beneath

"it" covers me, yet
              leaves me feeling
        exposed
aware of a vacancy

when you feel an ache
the ache of missing
theres a shovel
carving out a shape in you
and you feel the friction
as a part of you is displaced
disjointed
unwholed
holed
holy reverence for an ancient feeling
how long in our history have we missed
have we ached
this common thread in our diverging paths
knitting together humanity
the fabric of missing